Prerogative of Power
by Napolde Tinuviel
Summary: In a wartorn world of commoners, soldiers, wizards and nobles, Lord Voldemort has the upper hand and as a reward, he gives Draco Malfoy the land of Gryffindor. Enter Harry Potter, the present master of Gryffindor. AU, SLASH, HPDM, eventual Mpreg
1. One: Through Woods So Deep

**Title: **Prerogative of Power

**Author: **Napolde

**Pairing: **H/D

**Rating:** PG-13 (for now)

**Warning(s):** AU. Slash. Eventual Mpreg.

**Disclaimer: **Copyright violation isn't my aim; this is written for the sole purpose of entertainment.

**Summary: **In a war-torn world of commoners, soldiers, wizards and nobles, Lord Voldemort has the upper hand, and as a reward, he gives Draco Malfoy the land of Gryffindor. Enter Harry Potter, the present master of Gryffindor.

**A/N: **I have too much time on my hand and not much to do—thus, this fic. I suddenly had the urge to write a long, AU story and I thank **Rache** for indulging my whim and beta-reading the story. My gratitude also goes to **Ashly**,** Kim**,** Ele **and** Olga** for their encouragement. Mistakes are mine.

This story includes Slash and Mpreg, though the latter isn't graphic.

**  
PREROGATIVE OF POWER  
**

**  
Chapter One**: _Through Woods So Deep_

_"There is room in the halls of pleasure  
For a large and lordly train,   
But one by one we must all file on  
Through the narrow aisles of pain."_

—Ella Wheeler Wilcox_; **Solitude**_

A harsh scream went on and on, piercing through the stark silence of the night. The pale-haired young man who headed the riders reined in his stallion, and his group of nine men halted as well.

"It must be an animal. Sounds like a horse," a burly rider commented from behind. The leader nodded, looking at the dim light beyond the trees where the sound was coming from.

"I'm going to take a look. There's bound to be someone with the animal—they might be able to tell us where we are." The leader swung from his saddle, tossing his reins to the burly rider, Goyle. Beside him, a thin, sallow-faced man garbed in black robes frowned.

"You shouldn't go there alone, Draco. I shall come with you." He dismounted his own steed, but Draco shook his head.

"Stay here, Severus. You're in charge." Draco smirked when his mentor tightened his lip disapprovingly, but Snape didn't argue further. He knew not to.

The icy cold wind blew, harsh and seemingly ominous. The forest was shrouded by shadows as the moon hid behind multiple wisps of clouds in the sky, refusing to give light to the gloomy night. "Be careful, Draco," Blaise Zabini said. The dark-skinned rider kept glancing at the shadowy corners of the forest. "The people around here are against Voldemort."

He didn't need a reminder. He had been even more watchful, his hand brushing his wand from time to time, ever since Blaise declared that they _could be_ in Gryffindor land. That had been a few hours ago.

Draco silently stalked towards the direction of the scream. As he came closer, he drew the silver dagger at his side, while his other hand rested on his wand. He was near the clearing when he heard voices.

"Hagrid, is there no other way to remove the trap?"

"'fraid not, Harry. The trap's enchanted ter be irremovable. Dunno if magic will work, but I sure can't pry it open." The former sounded youthful, but the latter was a heavy brogue of an older man.

Draco settled behind a tall bush and looked into the clearing. There was a single lantern perched on top of a boulder that illuminated the odd scene he witnessed. A unicorn of breathtaking splendor lay struggling on the ground; one of its legs was caught in a metal trap, its silvery white blood spattering everywhere as it thrashed around in pain. Two people were kneeling beside the unicorn: one was a giant of a man with wild, scruffy hair and a thick beard. _He must be over seven feet_, Draco mused. The other was younger with untidy black hair and a lithe form. Both were wearing thick, threadbare cloaks, and the younger man—to Draco's utter surprise—was holding a wand.

The youth waved his wand in a sweeping motion, muttering an incantation that Draco recognized as a charm to break a curse or a spell. A flicker of red sparks appeared, but Draco could see the futility of his effort—it wasn't affecting the metal trap.

"Damn," said the black-haired youth. He frowned worriedly. "My magic is not enough to break through the spell."

"Let me help then." Draco didn't know what made him say it, but he did suspect that the pathetic state of the unicorn and the deep worry on the youth's face had something to do with it. He emerged from his hiding place.

The gigantic man and the youth jumped at his voice.

"Gallopin' Gargoyles!" exclaimed the giant of a man. He grabbed his crossbow just as Draco leveled his wand at him.

"Don't," Draco snapped. "Move and I'll hex you." The giant looked like he couldn't care if he was hexed, but his companion put a hand in front of him.

"Wait, Hagrid. He said he wanted to help us." The youth turned to look at him. Draco absently noted that he had eyes like the emerald earrings his mother, Narcissa, used to love—vivid and flawless.

"Who are you? What do you want?" the youth continued. Draco noticed that his wand wasn't pointed at him. He put his dagger away, slowly lowering his own wand. "I'm just a traveler in need of directions," he answered. "I was riding by when I heard your unicorn."

As if on cue, the unicorn gave a loud whinny.

The youth's intense look was unnerving, delving deep, as if he could see into Draco's very soul. If Draco didn't grow up in Severus' care, he might have been intimidated.

"You're a wizard." It was a statement. He glanced at Draco's wand. Draco merely shrugged.

"Indeed, I am."

"Will you truly help us?"

Draco snorted. "I did offer to help, didn't I? But yes," he added when the other scowled. "I will help you."

"Harry, are ye sure 'bout this?" protested Hagrid, casting doubtful glances at Draco, but Harry shook his head as he gestured Draco forward.

"The unicorn has been trapped for several hours already. It's lost too much blood, I think," Harry said, stroking the unicorn's mane.

Draco nodded, grimacing at the sight of such heartbreaking pain. "Well, shall we?"

With Hagrid hovering like a worried mother behind them, Harry and Draco waved their wands in a sweeping movement while speaking the incantation, sending a flurry of red sparks around the trap. A moment later, it opened and the unicorn was freed.

"It worked. We did it." Harry was grinning happily; relief made his green eyes twinkle. His enthusiasm was so contagious that Draco felt a small smile tug at his lips.

"Our thanks." Harry held out a hand, which Draco took without thinking. "I'm glad I stopped Hagrid from shooting you." Hagrid just grunted.

Draco wrinkled his nose. He didn't make a habit out of helping other people, so it must have been a minor fluke. "It was nothing, though I'd appreciate it if you could tell me where we are."

"Ye're in Gryffindor land," answered Hagrid as he took off his cloak and wrapped it around the wounded unicorn.

A burst of triumph surged through Draco—they weren't lost after all. Blaise's sense of direction prevailed amidst the darkness of the forest. "There were no lights anywhere," he remarked, keeping the smugness out of his voice.

Harry grinned. "It's simple, really. Aside from the normal wards, I added a Disillusionment Spell on the border." At this, Harry's smile completely dissolved to be replaced by a hard look. He knelt once more and started to heal the unicorn. "We're not making it easy for poachers, thieves and Death Eaters to find our land," he added in clipped tones.

"Damned poachers," growled Hagrid. "Since that bastard Voldemort attacked Gryffindor, everyone 'sumed every creature in the forest is fair game. Bloody buggers!"

Draco remained silent, but he was fuming. Poachers on _his_ land! _How dare they_, he thought.

"So, you're also a wizard." Harry was looking at him again, his green eyes full of curiosity and interest. Draco could understand his behavior—it was rare to find another wizard anywhere; there were less than fifty of them left.

"Among other things," Draco answered wryly.

"Other things?" Harry's eyes rested on Draco's silver dagger. "Are you a soldier, then?"

Draco carefully kept his face blank.

"You could say so," he replied, noncommittal.

Both their reactions were immediate. Harry stiffened warily, and Hagrid scowled at Draco, distrust evident on his black, bead-like eyes.

"Who are ye fightin' fer, then, lad? Dumbledore or Voldemort?" Hagrid questioned.

"I fight for myself."

"That's no answer!" cried Hagrid. He clutched his crossbow yet again, bending down closer to Draco so that they were face to face. "Who are ye and where are ye from?"

Draco had no desire to announce his presence until he was firmly established at Gryffindor Castle. As Draco hesitated, Harry shrugged. "He's not an enemy, Hagrid. If he were, he would've killed us, wouldn't he? He'd certainly not have helped the unicorn." He patted the giant's arm reassuringly. "These days, someone may have a good reason for keeping his name and business a secret."

"But Harry—"

"Draco!" It was Blaise. "For God's sake, Malfoy, are you all right?"

Draco inwardly swore. But it was too late.

Harry's wand fell to the ground in a soft rustle. "Draco… Malfoy," he whispered, paling. His green eyes widened in shock and accusation, and a hint self-blame. Beside him, Hagrid was turning bright red in anger.

"DRACO MALFOY! DEATH EATER FILTH!" he roared, charging at Draco. But Draco was faster; he flicked his wand at Hagrid and the giant-like man froze, unable to move his whole body. But as Draco turned back to Harry, he suddenly felt his throat close up, tightening each second, strangling him. He couldn't breathe, and he imagined his face slowly turning purple. He dropped his wand and opened his eyes, not even noticing that he closed it, and saw Harry as his sight dimmed.

His eyes were burning in hatred, a haunting green the color of the Killing Curse. His thin form trembled with an almost violent quality. He was cursing Draco without using his wand, his magic pulsing around him like a living thing. It was both frightening and magnificent.

Later, he would wonder what could've happened if Severus had not arrive and blast Harry backwards, breaking the curse.

Draco wheezed, breathing hard. "Wait," he gasped, panting still, as he saw Snape advance toward Harry and Hagrid, who immediately went to Harry after being freed from Draco's enchantment when he dropped his wand. His mentor stopped, raising a brow at him.

"Are you fine, Draco?"

"Yes." It wasn't precisely a lie; he was feeling better. Though he still fought to regulate his breathing. "Don't harm them, Severus."

"Hm." He was looking at Harry with black eyes both calculating and assessing. "This one's a wizard—a very powerful one. He could have killed you."

"He deserves it," Harry snarled. "All Death Eaters deserve it. You're nothing but murderers and thieves, killing innocent people just for fun. Bastards!" He struggled in Hagrid's arms.

Suddenly, Draco felt something inside him snapped. He lashed his wand and Harry's whole body convulsed, his head wrenching back, as if he had been punched. "We do not kill needlessly, but provoke me again and I will kill you. You," he growled at Hagrid. "Restrain your friend if you don't want him hurt." Hagrid glared at him.

_Bloody, sanctimonious bastards, _Draco thought, furious.

"You wouldn't want to do that, Draco," Severus was saying. His thin lips were pursed in a grim smirk.

Draco frowned. "Why is that?"

Severus' laugh was brimming with irony.

"Because he is Harry Potter, the new Lord of Gryffindor."

_To be continued…_

_

* * *

_

The next chapter will be out in a week or so.

Reviews are great motivators, mind you.


	2. In The Morning After

**Title: **Prerogative of Power

**Author: **Napolde

**Pairing: **H/D

**Rating:** PG-13 (for now)

**Warning(s):** AU. Slash. Eventual Mpreg.

**Disclaimer: **Copyright violation isn't my aim; this is written for the sole purpose of entertainment.

**Summary: **In a war-torn world of commoners, soldiers, wizards and nobles, Lord Voldemort has the upper hand, and as a reward, he gives Draco Malfoy the land of Gryffindor. Enter Harry Potter, the present master of Gryffindor.

**A/N: **Again, my heart-felt thanks to **Rache**, my beta-reader. Without her, this chapter would've ended in shambles. Mistakes are mine.

This story includes Slash and Mpreg, though the latter isn't graphic.

**  
PREROGATIVE OF POWER  
**

**  
Chapter Two:** _In the Morning After_

_See black, see bloom  
Died on an impulse over you  
Caught like a corpse crawling round a dream and loving you  
And she hangs on youth  
Crushing any feet to fit the shoes  
Stepping it out with a size 12 mouth and cursing you_

_Small town witch come to mess me up  
Small town witch come to mess me up  
Small town witch come to mess me up again_

—Sneaker Pimps; **_Small Town Witch  
_**

"HARRY! How could you have done such a thing?" wailed Petunia.

Clad in a white linen shirt, leather breeches and black boots, Lord Harry James Potter glared down at his plate of half-finished breakfast. His unruly, jet-black hair contrasted sharply with his pale face. He felt physically ill, and no wonder—Draco Malfoy and his Death Eaters were staying in Gryffindor Castle.

Harry and Hagrid had reluctantly led Malfoy and his men to the castle—they were outnumbered, and they knew that it would be useless to fight them. Yet to Harry's immense relief, he hadn't had to talk to Malfoy. As the senior servant and steward when Harry's parents were away to fight alongside Dumbledore, Mad-Eye had met Malfoy and his followers at the castle entrance and led them inside.

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody was sixty-eight. He wore an eye patch and he had a wooden right leg. When he was younger, his left eye was blinded and the Healers amputated his leg as it was hit by a powerful curse. Nevertheless, he stood proudly at the foot of the staircase and explained that the Lady Petunia and Lady Hermione were abed and could not be roused at such an hour. In truth, however, the ladies were awake. Harry's cousin, Hermione, waited boldly at the upstairs landing while beside her stood Aunt Petunia, trembling at Mad-Eye's defiance of their new Death Eater master. But Malfoy had merely ordered that they be given quarters as his eyes roamed around the castle, and lingered on the black cloth that replaced the Gryffindor flag of red and gold.

"I will meet the ladies in the morning," he decreed, his grey eyes shifting towards Harry. And, as if an afterthought, he murmured, "I'm sorry about your parents."

Harry could've killed him then.

Now morning had arrived, and Petunia was accusing Harry. "If it hadn't been for your heroics, they'd have missed us in the dark."

Lady Petunia Evans was a tall and thin woman with a constant sour face. She was unmarried and bitter, and she had always needled Harry and Hermione for every mistake they'd made since they were children. Harry supposed she was just envious of her younger sisters' blissful married lives.

"Those Death Eaters could've ridden past Gryffindor," she went on, nailing Harry with a disapproving gaze. "You should've known better, Harry."

"Shut up!" Harry snapped, glowering angrily at his aunt. He'd had enough. "I'm already aware of my fault, all right?"

Upon seeing that Petunia was about to start again, Hermione quickly intervened. "They would've found us eventually, Aunt Petunia," she said, ever the voice of reason. Harry sent her a grateful look. His cousin looked as if she hadn't had slept all night; she had dark circles under her warm brown eyes. "Besides, Hagrid had no idea how to free the unicorn—only Harry could've done it."

"And don't blame Hagrid," added Harry. "He wanted me to go back to the castle but I had to help the creature."

Petunia glared at her nephew. "You always have excuses whenever you do anything wrong. Your father and mother spoiled you abominably, boy." She huffed. "You always act before you think—it's unseemly."

"Well, I think Harry did a brave thing," protested Hermione. "And you didn't seem to think it was 'unseemly' when Harry went to Godric's Hollow and brought Uncle James' and Aunt Lily's bodies back home." She lifted her trembling chin. "That, too, was bravely done."

In the silence that enveloped the room, Harry heard the wind blew against the windows, and he imagined the same gush of air sweeping across the two fresh graves on the hill behind Gryffindor Castle.

"It wasn't bravery, Hermione," murmured Harry as he averted his gaze from her. "It was sheer desperation. I could feel their presence slowly fading away, and I just had to get them home, even for the last time..." He swallowed, remembering the crumbling remnant of the house where his parents had gone into hiding from Voldemort's wizard hunt.

Hermione whimpered quietly. "Oh, Harry."

"Voldemort drained their magic away, Hermione, and then he killed them—left them to rot. And, _God_, I was so foolish to think that was the end of it..." He let out a harsh laugh.

When Harry came back from that long and miserable journey, he had found the people of Gryffindor seething in rage and disbelief. A message had come from the land of Slytherin proclaiming that in view of the defeat of Lord James Potter, the joint lands of Gryffindor and Hangleton had become Voldemort's. It was also further stated that both properties had been given to his loyal Death Eater, Draco Malfoy.

Hermione leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "I hate this... I hate waiting for Malfoy to turn us out."

Harry banged his fist on the table. "There is no way I'm letting him do that!" He stood and started to pace. "Maybe I can go to Dumbledore and seek his help… maybe I can put together an army to reclaim Gryffindor..."

"Harry, Dumbledore has his own war to fight," Hermione quietly reminded him.

"Then what should I do? Do you think I should just sit here and wait for him to throw us out of our home?"

"You can't do anything," said Aunt Petunia in a defeated voice. "Gryffindor belongs to Draco Malfoy now. He can do as he likes." She turned to Harry again. "And you were lucky that he didn't kill you when he found you out."

Hermione gave him a look of curiosity, and Harry tensed. He didn't want to think about last night. When Harry had first seen _him_ with his pale hair and those hooded grey eyes, he should've let Hagrid shoot the bastard with his crossbow. Instead, Harry asked him to help them.

Harry hadn't told anyone about that meeting in the forest, and he had sworn Hagrid to secrecy, yet the memory persisted to plague him. They had shook hands. They had worked together to break the enchantment, and Harry had been so pleased to meet another wizard near his age that he had actually begun to like Malfoy. He had even wanted to befriend the bastard.

A sharp knock suddenly echoed throughout the breakfast room. Petunia looked up in alarm. "Are they coming here?" she asked, anxious, just as Harry said, "Come in!"

The door swung open, but it was only Mad-Eye. "The man's requesting your presence in the study," he told Petunia grimly.

Harry's aunt looked ready to faint. "Tell him I haven't finished my breakfast," she pleaded.

"I already told him," Mad-Eye growled. "And he didn't react. He just repeated that he wanted to see you."

Visibly trembling, Petunia got up from her chair. "Very well," she muttered, trying to compose herself. Harry thought she was failing miserably.

As she left the room, Moody turned to Harry with a fierce look on his blue eye.

"You better be on your guard, my lord. That Malfoy boy is dangerous, probably as dangerous as his father was—maybe even more. And the man in black robes… always watch out for him," he warned. "Severus Snape. He's a great wizard; cunning as hell and great in Potion making." The old man shook his head. "Pity that he chose to side with Voldemort."

Harry nodded slowly, taking heed of everything Moody said. Beside him, Hermione tilted her head in one side. "Lucius Malfoy? But I thought his whole family had been killed a decade ago…"

"Aye, but only Lucius and his wife Narcissa had died. Apparently, their only son escaped."

Harry felt a momentary pang of pity, but he promptly shoved it aside. "Mad-Eye, what is Malfoy going to do about us?"

Mad-Eye Moody shrugged. "Make us leave, probably, but I cannot know for sure. He's a cool one, and I can't read what he's thinking."

Hermione bit her lip and pushed away from the table. "I lost my appetite. I'm going to my room."

"I'll come with you, Hermione," said Harry as he also stood and opened the door for his cousin. They walked down the oak-paneled hallway with Mad-Eye behind them, and as they reached the door of the study, they saw two of Malfoy's men guarding the door. One was tall, lean and dark-skinned, and then other was a wiry fellow with shrewd dark eyes. The dark-skinned one winked at Hermione.

"Pay no attention to them," Moody muttered.

As they reached the stairs, they heard Petunia cry out, "Preposterous! I could never permit such a thing!"

Hermione grasped Harry's arm. "Oh, Merlin. He meant to throw us out."

Harry felt anger stir inside him once more. Anger, but helplessness as well. Ignoring Malfoy's men, he stopped half-way up the stairs and looked around at the castle that was no longer his. He didn't look at the lavish stained-glass windows nor the rich tapestries and paintings that adorned the stone walls. Instead, his eyes rested on the soft bear-skin rug in front of the hearth. He remembered how often, as a child, he would play tickling matches with his parents on that rug.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked in a soft voice filled with understanding, and he remembered that Hermione would also lose the only home she'd ever had since her parents died.

"Now, my lord, you're not to let them see you in this state," Moody gruffly chastised.

Harry gave a half-hearted grin. "I know. I apologize, Mad-Eye."

Moody just grunted.

Below them, the study door opened and Petunia emerged. She was still pale and trembling. "Harry... Hermione." She faltered. "Please come. Now."

Hermione's grasp on his arm tightened almost painfully, and then she let go and nodded. Harry slowly released the breath he held. "Let's go, Hermione." Eyes straight ahead and ignoring the guards on the door, they walked down the stairs and went inside the study.

The room was full of shadows. The servants had drawn the study's heavy drapes on the day the bodies of their master and mistress were brought back to Gryffindor, and since then, no one had opened them. Even so, enough light filtered through the curtains to turn Draco Malfoy's hair into pale gold.

He was leaning on James' mahogany desk with his arms crossed on his chest. He wore a white shirt and black breeches underneath his cloak. His black boots tapped in a parody of impatience. His lips were slanted upwards, and the gleam in his grey eyes told Harry that the bastard was enjoying this. Behind him lurked Severus Snape in his black robes, staring at them with unreadable eyes.

Petunia was saying, "This is my niece," she gave Hermione a little push, "Lady Hermione Granger."

"My lady," murmured Malfoy as he straightened from his lazy pose and bowed with an easy grace. He kissed her proffered hand, and Harry noticed that Hermione was blushing. He really couldn't blame her—the bastard was certainly charming.

"And this is my nephew, Lord—"

"Harry Potter," Malfoy interrupted, turning those pale eyes on him. His smile had vanished. Good.

"Malfoy." Harry's nod was stiff, but he would not shake hands with the Death Eater again to save his life.

Malfoy gestured towards Snape. "This is my mentor, Lord Severus Snape," he introduced, and when they exchanged the perfunctory bows, Malfoy went back to his place earlier. "I now own Gryffindor and Hangleton," he started, fixing each of them with a steady gaze, "which, upon the death of Lord Peter Pettigrew, had become Lord James', and upon his death, had become mine."

God, how Harry want to hit that bastard's smug face. He was already regretting that he left his wand on his room.

"If you are hoping that Dumbledore will still win in this war against the Dark Lord, then I say you're delusional. Lord Voldemort is gaining more and more followers everyday," a quick glance at Harry, "and with every wizard he drains and kills, he grows more powerful."

"You're wrong, Malfoy," Harry declared through gritted teeth. "Dumbledore will win—he's stronger than Voldemort."

"For now, maybe," Malfoy conceded. "But enough of that. There is no war here in Gryffindor, and I want to assure you that very little will change for you. You will still continue to live here and oversee the people of Gryffindor as you have done during the absence of Lord James. Except now, of course, you'll only act as stewards."

"You'll let us stay here?" cried Petunia, and even though Malfoy rolled his eyes, he nodded his assent. Harry heard Hermione's sigh of relief, but Harry couldn't believe it. He had a sinking feeling that there would be more to this.

And as if Malfoy had read his mind, he said, "I haven't finished what I was going to say. You, mistress, and Lord Potter will stay. The lady Hermione will live with me in Hangleton. We'll get married first, naturally."

For a moment, they were all frozen silent. Then Hermione gave a hoarse cry. "No!"

"Like hell if you think I'm letting my cousin marry someone like you!" Harry snarled. He was feeling his magic swirling around him yet again, but when he tried to raise his arm, it didn't move. He couldn't move. Harry looked up, and saw Snape pointing his wand at him.

"That won't happen again, Potter." Malfoy's eyes narrowed. He was too close to Harry all of a sudden. "You better stop using your magic or I might be tempted to take you to Voldemort myself. And your cousin will either marry me, or I will throw all of you out." He abruptly beamed. "I'm sure you and your aunt will be excellent stewards."

"I won't go with you," Hermione protested, shaking her head in disbelief.

"It's all right, _mon chéri_, I know the distance between Gryffindor Castle and Hangleton is far, but we'll manage." He paused. "And if you're thinking of running away, please don't be foolish. There's nowhere you can go that my men will not find you. It would only be a waste of time and effort."

"I'll have you for this, Malfoy," Harry swore as he struggled with the curse.

White teeth flashed as Malfoy turned to Harry, looking him up from head to feet. "Why, Harry, is that an invitation?"

"Sir," Petunia mumbled. "Now that you've had you say, do we have your permission to leave?"

He bowed to her. "Of course, mistress. You have a great deal to do. I shall leave all the wedding arrangements to your capable hands. And tonight, I request the pleasure of your company at dinner. All of you." He gave Harry a significant look.

The bastard. The arrogant, condescending bastard. Harry shot him a look of pure loathing, but Malfoy just smirked and waved his wand to end the curse.

"Damn you to hell, Malfoy," Harry said at last, as he turned to leave with his cousin and aunt.

A sneer. "You wish."

_To be continued..._

_

* * *

_

I'm sorry for the delay. This chapter is supposed to be very long, but I decided to cut it into two when I wasn't able to finish the whole thing in a week.

Though the next chapter is already half-written, and next Tuesday is my birthday, so I'll try to post it by then. I'll try, mind you.

**_My thanks to_**:

**Danaan**, **Mercyangel**, **Redherring**, **Ak**-**alterego** (here is the backstory!), **Sweetliwycked**, **Earthwytch**, **Nicky**, **YG**, **Pag**, **Curiousdreamweaver**, and **DarkAngel's****Blue** **Fire**. Thank you for your reviews and encouragements, which, God knows, I need so much.

Comments are welcomed. I insist, actually.


	3. Parley

**Title: **Prerogative of Power  
**Author: **Napolde  
**Pairing: **H/D  
**Rating:** R  
**Warning(s):** AU. Slash. Eventual Mpreg.  
**Disclaimer: **Copyright violation isn't my aim; this is written for the sole purpose of entertainment.  
**Summary: **In a war-torn world of commoners, soldiers, wizards and nobles, Lord Voldemort has the upper hand, and as a reward, he gives Draco Malfoy the land of Gryffindor. Enter Harry Potter, the present master of Gryffindor.

**A/N: **The rating is now R, for language and mature situations. Again, my huge thanks to **Rache**, my marvelous beta-reader. Mistakes are mine.

This story includes Slash and Mpreg, though the latter isn't graphic.

**  
PREROGATIVE OF POWER**

**  
Chapter Three: **_Parley_

_I'll play your games with your sex, with electric shocks  
Learn to let myself loose and be the dummy in your snapshots  
I'll play your games learn to get on with your backward fans  
Stick my body in the sun and help to get rid of the white tan_

—Sneaker Pimps_; **Sick**_

**_x x x x x_**_**  
**_

"I won't marry him!" Hermione cried as she paced in front of Harry, Aunt Petunia and Moody. She had been quiet when they went upstairs—too quiet, in Harry's opinion. But the moment they had arrived to her bedchamber, Hermione exploded in anger and outrage.

Petunia gave her a disgruntled look. "We don't have any choice, dear."

"_We_? I'm the one he intends to marry!" Hermione wrung her hands. "I'll run away. I'll go someplace where he can't find me."

"Yes," Harry immediately agreed, "you should run. Quickly. I shall cast Invisibility and Confounding spells on you and then you can go to Sirius' land, or to the Weasleys."

Moody gave a snort. "I doubt she'll get _that_ far. Remember who we're up against. Malfoy and Snape are no doubt powerful wizards; they can easily break through your enchantments, my lord."

"Mad-Eye!" cried both Harry and Hermione.

Petunia sighed. "Moody is right. There's nothing we can do. It's terrible that he's proposing, but we must thank God it's not worse. He could've taken her by force... Imagine the scandal."

Harry scowled at his aunt.

"Hermione, you must resign yourself," Aunt Petunia lectured, ignoring her nephew. "Most marriages are arranged, after all. In a way, it's a blessing that he wants to marry into the family."

Harry and Hermione stared at their aunt in disbelief.

"Don't you see?" Petunia continued irritably. "The man's a soldier—a Death Eater. By God's grace, he'll get himself killed soon, and then the lands will revert back to Hermione. To _us_."

Hermione fell into her bed, covered her face, and sobbed. Harry shot a look of outrage to his aunt's way, which she answered with a huff. "Leave us, Aunt Petunia. You've hurt Hermione enough. Mad-Eye, will you tell a servant to bring us a basin of water?"

As soon as Moody and Petunia left, Hermione threw down her hands. "I won't do it, Harry," she declared.

"Merlin, Hermione, as much as I don't like the old hag, Aunt Petunia is right. If you don't do as he says, he'll just take you by force."

"No, he won't. If I'm forced to marry him, I'll kill myself." Hermione's rich brown eyes were turbulent. "Do you think I'd let someone touch me after Ron?"

Harry stared. "Ron?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Ron and I love each other."

"But—but neither of you told me..." Even at such a time, Harry felt hurt that his best friends had not confided in him.

"Ron was going to speak to Uncle James, but then, Dumbledore called for men to fight alongside him, so we thought it best to wait before telling anyone. Ron hoped he could make a name for himself in the war."

Hermione and Ron... Harry guessed he should've expected it. Despite Ron and Hermione's constant bickering, it was quite obvious that they were besotted with each other. Since the Weasleys' land, The Burrow, bordered Gryffindor, they'd all known one another since childhood. Under normal circumstances, a match such as theirs would've been approved. But Ron was the sixth son, and he would inherit neither land nor wealth from his father. To him, the war must have seemed like an opportunity to prove his worth.

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you, Harry." She blushed. "We fell in love a few months ago. Suddenly, we knew we couldn't be happy without each other."

Did Ron love Hermione enough to kill Malfoy? Harry rejected the thought. Ron would try to kill Malfoy, of course. But Ron wasn't a wizard; he wouldn't stand a chance against Malfoy.

"Harry, what am I going to do?"

Harry looked at his cousin helplessly.

"I don't know, Hermione. I don't know."

**_x x x x x_**

Since there was no help for it but to go down to dinner, Hermione wanted to wear her simple mourning clothes, but Aunt Petunia insisted that she should dress _properly_. She made Hermione wear a black silk taffeta gown with full skirts, with her brown hair swept up and held in place with bejeweled combs. Harry thought his cousin looked very pretty.

Even Harry relented to his aunt's endless nagging; he wore a forest green cloak with a silver clasp over his usual ensemble of white shirt, black breeches and black leather boots. He tucked his wand on his back.

When they entered the formal dining room, Malfoy and his men were already present. Malfoy kissed the hands of Hermione and his aunt, but contrary to the last time, his cousin blanched. Harry merely gave a stiff nod which the Death Eater returned, equally as stiff.

"Ladies, Lord Potter, let me present the rest of my comrades. My mentor, Lord Snape, as I've introduced to you earlier, and my lieutenant, Lord Blaise Zabini of the Zabini family from the north of Slytherin," Malfoy said, gesturing towards the tall, dark skinned young man on his left. Harry had heard of the Zabini family and their refusal to side with anyone. But seeing that their heir was a Death Eater, Harry supposed their neutrality will soon change in favor of Voldemort.

Hermione remained silent on her seat, and Aunt Petunia looked pained, but Harry listened as the introductions continued. His father had once told him that to know the leader, one must also know his men.

There was Theodore Nott; the thin, wiry fellow with shrewd eyes, and then there was Evan Rosier, a dark-haired man with a scar on his left temple. Seated opposite him were Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe; two huge, burly mercenaries. There was also the brawny Malcolm Baddock and the giant-like Marcus Flint, and the fierce-looking Montague brothers, Reid and Stephen.

Harry was quite astounded to learn that almost all of them were heirs to great lands. How Malfoy managed to earn their loyalty and respect was beyond Harry, but he could see that Malfoy's men nearly worshiped their pale-haired leader.

Harry, Hermione and their aunt stayed quiet as they ate, keeping their faces as blank as they could while two of Malfoy's men, Crabbe and Goyle, devoured and gulped their way through dinner. Moody's face was a grimace of disgust as he oversaw the serving of the meal and whiskey.

"Vince, Greg, I suggest you quit eating like pigs in front of the ladies," Malfoy said.

Crabbe and Goyle looked like they were about to protest, but they sighed instead and proceeded to eat more slowly.

Suddenly, Marcus Flint pounded his fist on the table. "It's time, isn't it, to drink some toast?" He swayed a little when he stood, and raised his goblet toward Hermione. "A toast to Draco's future wife, the Lady Hermione—may she live long and happily, and present Draco with strong sons."

Hermione paled even more.

His comrades cried in agreement, and Harry saw Malfoy grin and lift his goblet with the others. Flint added, "Now let's drink to the prosperity of Gryffindor, Hangleton and their new Lord."

That was the last straw for Harry. He was aware of the others watching him as he pushed back his chair from the table and stood up—Petunia with horror, Hermione with apprehension, Snape with a calculating look, and Malfoy with a thin, derisive smile on his lips. There was a buzzing in Harry's ears, and all the faces on the table blurred as he turned his back on them and strode toward the door.

Harry shook his head as the moment of dizziness passed. He felt his magic still swirling violently inside him, and when he heard a roar of laughter from the dining room, a vase on the counter across him suddenly exploded into tiny pieces. "Damn," he murmured. He hastily went to the main entrance and opened the door leading to the courtyard.

It was cold outdoors, with a bitter wind that cut to the bone. Stars littered the velvety sky. Harry walked further to distance himself from the house and the Death Eaters who took over it. But as he moved, he heard a swift footfall behind him and, turning, caught the glint of pale blond hair.

Malfoy had followed Harry. The Death Eater walked toward him, his face shuttered and seemingly calm, but Harry could feel the erratic magic surrounding the other wizard. With his heart beating madly, Harry started to reach for his wand.

"Isn't it too cold a night for a walk?" Malfoy said, his voice sounding pleasant enough.

Harry stilled, frowning. What was Malfoy at? He gazed at the man in front of him, at the grey eyes like artic ice. There was nothing to see. _Very well_, Harry thought, _I'll play your game_. "The air inside was too close," he answered, disregarding his wand.

Malfoy nodded. "I know this is difficult for you, Potter. Remember that as soon as we ride away to Hangleton, life will be as much as you knew it."

Harry looked at him incredulously. "How can that be? My mother and father are dead, and you will take Hermione with you." Malfoy didn't comment, and Harry quickly added, "My cousin doesn't want to marry you."

Harry held his breath, but Malfoy didn't seem angered. "That shouldn't make a difference. Don't nobles and ladies marry mostly to increase their property or to seal alliances?"

"Perhaps." Curbing his impatience, Harry chose his words carefully. "There is a reason why you shouldn't marry Hermione. She loves someone else," a pause, "a grieving wife would be no use to you."

In the faint moonlight, Harry saw Malfoy frown. "It can't be helped. I need to marry into your family."

"Are you in love with her?"

Malfoy snorted. "Are you mad? How could I be, when I never saw her before today? But the fact is that the people of Gryffindor won't accept me unless I wed into the ruling family."

Harry wanted to retort that he wouldn't be accepted anyway, but he bit back that truth. He had to placate Malfoy, to try to convince him to leave Hermione alone.

"I need my people to work willingly for me," Malfoy went on, and Harry was surprised at how serious Malfoy sounded. "I won't tolerate disobedience, Potter. Your cousin is young. Once she's away from her so-called love, she'll forget him."

Harry couldn't help the harsh laugh that escaped him. "Hermione is one of the most stubborn people I know, Malfoy. What you're doing will ruin her life."

"That's the way it has to be."

Harry heard the finality in his voice. There was no use to protest; he knew Malfoy would never change his mind. Hermione's pale, tear-stained face rose into Harry's mind along with Ron's grinning freckled face. Hermione might kill herself, or she might run... Ron might challenge Malfoy... either way, both his best friends will die.

_Bloody, buggering hell_. Harry had played with the idea when he could think of nothing to help Hermione, though he hadn't thought he'd need to go through with it. Still, Harry knew that his best friends had to be saved, no matter what the cost.

"Wait," Harry forced himself to say. "You—you don't love Hermione, so it doesn't matter whom you marry, as long as you marry into the family."

_No matter what the cost_.

Malfoy was staring at him, and Harry stared back. "Marry me, then."

Harry braced himself—he was sure Malfoy would laugh at him, but Malfoy didn't react at all; he just continued to stare at Harry. "You want to marry me," he stated dryly, raising his brow.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy, I don't _want_ to. But you said you had to marry into the family." He gave a sardonic laugh. "Unless you want to marry Aunt Petunia..."

"Don't be absurd, Potter. I won't marry that vile scarecrow of a hag."

"Then marry me. It's entirely acceptable, if a bit rare."

Malfoy sneered. "Do you think I'm stupid, Potter? I know you'll try to kill me on our first night together—gut me in my sleep or choke me to death with your magic like you did in the forest. Besides, we can't have children."

This time, it was Harry who snorted. "I've thought of that, of course." He took a deep breath. "There is a way. Magical joining, Malfoy. We're both wizards; one of us can bear a child through a magical joining."

"That's Sex Magic, Potter. Dangerous stuff."

"Why? Are you scared?" Harry challenged.

"No, I'm only telling you the truth," Malfoy scoffed.

"Malfoy, Hermione is only my cousin. My people will more likely accept you if you marry their former master. As for me trying to kill you, on my honor as a Gryffindor—"

"Ah, yes, the Gryffindor honor," Malfoy mocked. "Your honorable aunt has agreed to let someone like me marry your cousin so that she can sit on her skinny backside and enjoy her comfort." Harry stubbornly held his place as Malfoy closed the distance between them, stopping near enough that Harry could feel the warmth of his body without touching him. "And here you are willing to take your cousin's place," he purred. "How noble."

Malfoy lifted his index finger and touched Harry's cheek, slowly caressing downwards. Harry caught his breath, resentment and something quite its opposite mingling and pooling inside him.

"Marry me," Harry insisted.

"You're awfully keen on this, Potter." His breath ghosted over Harry's cheek. "Do you really want me that much?"

"Malfoy, you know I'd rather marry a pig than you," Harry hoarsely whispered just as Malfoy's fingertip slowly ran over his bottom lip.

Grey eyes narrowed, flashed and darkened. When Malfoy spoke, his voice was deceptively mild. "Aren't you going too fast?" The lazy caress suddenly turned to a vise-like grip on Harry's arm, and then Malfoy pulled Harry against him. "I haven't said I'd have you."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but his words were soon lost as Malfoy crushed his lips against Harry's. He raised his arms and tried to push the Death Eater away, but Malfoy's other hand rose to grasp the back of his head hard, so that there could be no escape. He froze, not wanting to respond to the demanding coax of Malfoy's tongue circling his lips. Even if it felt so damned pleasant.

"Open your mouth, Harry," Malfoy whispered, placing small kisses and teasing licks on his closed mouth. Harry felt his eyes drift shut. "I want to come in." The index finger was tracing his bottom lip again.

Harry swallowed, caught up in a haze of conflicting desires. His mind was reeling—Malfoy was the enemy, the one who took over Gryffindor, and yet...

And yet Malfoy's finger was pressing on his lower lip and Malfoy's body was rocking against his own_—God—_and it was all he could do not to moan.

"Open."

With a strangled noise, Harry opened his lips, bit the invading finger _hard_, and then sucked it in. He heard Malfoy gasp, then he devoured Harry's mouth, his tongue sliding inside to replace his finger, and it was soft and hard, hot and wet. It felt so _good_. Their tongues met in a wild, frenzied movement of giving and taking, and it was nothing like Harry had ever felt before, this intense, mindless sensation. Malfoy slid a hand through Harry's hair, wrenching the other's head back to thrust his tongue deeper, making Harry moan and clutch Malfoy's neck as he too leaned forward to have more.

_OH fuck..._

Harry couldn't think straight—he had lost control of his thoughts long before they had started to kiss. Harry inhaled sharply when Malfoy left his mouth to trail slow, wet kisses up to his temple, and then downwards to his chin and throat, biting and licking as he went. He tilted his head back to give Malfoy better access, giving a soundless cry when Malfoy sucked on the sensitive flesh connecting his neck and shoulder. And when Malfoy repossessed his lips, Harry's mouth promptly opened for him, and it started all over again.

No longer could Harry tell where he ended and Malfoy began, or whose breath he drew into his lungs. Nor could he remember who Malfoy was and what he had done. None of that mattered. But reality eventually intruded, and when a sudden burst of laughter sounded from the castle, Harry jolted to his senses and wrenched free from Malfoy's arms. The kiss left him breathless, and he could feel the heat on his cheeks. He lifted an arm to rub his lips on his sleeves, as if by doing that, he could erase what happened.

Another burst of laughter could be heard amidst both their harsh breathing.

Malfoy was just staring at him with eyes still narrowed, and Harry glared unflinchingly back at him. "Well, Malfoy, did I pass your little test? Will you accept my proposal?" Harry was pleased to hear his voice sound so unperturbed when he was far from being calm.

Malfoy studied Harry for the longest of time. Harry wanted to squirm from the intensity of Death Eater's gaze, but he didn't give into the urge. He'd be damned if Malfoy saw any weakness from him.

"Well?"

A smile slowly appeared on Malfoy's lips, dazzling, dangerous.

"I will."

_To be continued...  
_

_

* * *

_  
**End notes:**

I took my time writing this, for I've always thought I couldn't write smut to save my life.

**Ura-hd**: Thanks for the review! Um, yes, Draco wants to marry Hermione to establish himself, just like he said in this chapter.

**Ak-alterego**: Thank you! And thank you for your comment as well.

**Danaan**: I do believe the other shoe has dropped. Thank you for your comments!

**Ralna****Malfoy**: Thank you! Um, as Draco said in this chapter, he wanted to establish himself as ruler.

**Bluumberry**: Well, I guess this chapter answered all your queries, eh? About Voldemort giving the land to Draco despite Harry being the legal heir, see, the setting of this story is very similar to the feudal times. Voldemort killed James, so he laid claim to James' land. Spoils of war.

**Pag**: The lack of background was quite intended. You'll get more background as the story goes on. Thank you for your comments!

Thanks again!

Next chapter... I cannot promise when, but I think it will be finished earlier than this chapter. I wasn't able to finish this earlier because I'm not that used to writing kissing scenes, so there. :p


	4. The Hunter and the Hunted

**Title: **Prerogative of Power

**Author: **Napolde

**Pairing: **H/D

**Rating:** R

**Warning(s):** AU. Slash. Eventual Mpreg.

**Disclaimer: **Copyright violation isn't my aim; this is written for the sole purpose of entertainment.

**Summary: **In a war-torn world of commoners, soldiers, wizards and nobles, Lord Voldemort has the upper hand, and as a reward, he gives Draco Malfoy the land of Gryffindor. Enter Harry Potter, the present master of Gryffindor.

**A/N:** This chapter wouldn't be possible without the helpful suggestions and guidance of my two wonderful beta readers, **Rachecho** and **Luciology**. My heartfelt thanks to both of them. Also, this chapter is dedicated to my friend **Occupiedneptune** who, despite her dislike for Mpreg, still read this story. She also gave me a Skyehawke account, so yay!

This is the second draft of chapter four. I spelled Macnair's name the wrong wayin the first draft, my apologies.

This story includes Slash and Mpreg, though the latter isn't graphic.

**PREROGATIVE OF POWER**

**Chapter Four: **_The Hunter and the Hunted _

_Allow the morning sun to warm _

_Your heart when you are young_

_And let the soft winds of noon_

_Cool your passion,_

_But beware the night_

_For death lurks there_

_Waiting, waiting, waiting..._

—Arthur Rimbaud

At dawn, the wind blowing from the North was freezing cold. It was nearing winter, and as Harry gazed at the grey skies, he shivered in his heavy riding cloak. He was making his way toward the stable when a rough voice spoke out of the mist.

"Stop where you are."

Theodore Nott was standing just inside the stable door, and behind him loomed the scarred Evan Rosier. "Where are you going?" Theodore demanded, frowning.

"Riding," Harry muttered.

"Riding? At this hour and in this wind?"

Despite his mild tone, Harry knew Nott was mocking him, and Harry seethed in silent anger. How dare Nott challenge Harry on his own land! How dare they question him! "I want to be alone," he snapped. He pushed pass the Death Eaters and entered the stable, deliberately ignoring the suspicious looks Rosier and Nott was giving him as he went to his horse, Firebolt.

Rosier remained silent until Harry led his horse out of the stable. "Be careful with Draco's horse."

_Go to hell_. Harry gritted his teeth as he swung himself up into the saddle. He urged Firebolt forward and the black horse eagerly galloped away.

Here, far from the castle and _them_, Harry felt the cold even more intensely, but the wind that caught his cloak couldn't numb his mind. He rode onward as his memory threw out pictures: Flint's toast, Hermione's pale face, the scene in the courtyard...

And the way Harry was forced to stand beside Malfoy as he declared the change in his plans.

Harry beat his fist against the pommel of his saddle. He wasn't sure whom he despised more—Malfoy or himself. Last night, when the Death Eater had jeered at him and humiliated him and kissed him, he had actually responded to the bastard. The touch of a fingertip slowly, _slowly_ stroking the side of his face and tracing his lip, the agonizing pleasure of Malfoy's hard body moving against his own, the feel of Malfoy's lips on his all seemed so real even now that Harry involuntarily lifted a hand to touch his mouth and darted his tongue against his fingers. No wonder Malfoy's grey eyes had mocked Harry when he announced their 'betrothal' last night.

"Bloody hell, what is the matter with me?" Harry groaned, and he hated himself even more for it.

He pressed the heel of his leather boots to urge Firebolt even faster. As long as he kept moving, he wouldn't have to think past the wind and the movement of his horse. As long as he kept moving, he wouldn't have to think of _him_—

Firebolt stumbled and Harry drew rein. From his horse's suddenly uneven gait, he knew Firebolt had thrown a shoe, and Harry realized for the first time how far his unthinking ride had brought them. The wind had gentled and some of the mist had begun to lift; he could see that they'd come close to the outskirts of Gryffindor.

"Sorry, my friend," Harry murmured to Firebolt, stroking his silky mane. "I didn't mean to ride you so hard. You can have a handful of oats and a rest while Seamus shoes you."

The smithy was less than a mile away. When he had ridden halfway there, he heard the ring of a hammer hitting an anvil, and Harry knew that in spite of the early hour, Seamus Finnigan was already working.

"Seamus!" Harry yelled, waving his hand as he neared the young blacksmith. It took Harry three shouts to get Seamus' attention amid the loud, clanking noise, and when he noticed Harry, his grim face broke into a smile.

"Harry!" Seamus greeted as he came running over. "Good morning to you!"

Harry almost snorted. His morning was far from good, but it wasn't Seamus' fault. "Good morning, Seamus. I need your help; Firebolt threw a shoe earlier."

"Ah, that's no problem that can't be fixed."

"Thanks." Harry swung down from Firebolt as Seamus inspected the horse's hoof.

"Hm, you must've driven Firebolt hard to make him lose his shoe," his friend commented.

Harry felt a surge of shame and nodded contritely. "Yes, I did. I'm afraid I didn't have a pleasant morning."

The smile had gone in an instant, replaced by a look of hatred. "It's Malfoy, isn't it? I saw him and his men riding by like he was a king. I wanted to kill him, the murdering bastard."

"Seamus Finnigan!"

A pretty young woman had come out of the cottage behind the smithy. A thick, multi-colored shawl was pulled over her blond hair and shoulders, and she held it close about her as she added, "Don't mind him, Harry. He doesn't know what he's saying."

Seamus flushed, glaring at his cousin, Luna Lovegood, as she made her way toward Harry. Even Harry felt ashamed. For a moment, he was spurred on by Seamus' words, but in face of Luna's common sense, he remembered his responsibility to his people.

"Luna's right, Seamus," Harry said soberly. "Killing Malfoy will do no good. He and his mentor are wizards, and he's got eight men following him and ready to kill for him. If anything happens to Malfoy, they'll burn the roofs over our heads."

"Didn't I tell you, Seamus?" Luna admonished. "Malfoy will only hex you into oblivion if you fight him."

Harry thumped Seamus in the shoulder. "There'll come a time to act. Until then, we must be patient."

The eyes that met Harry's were very serious. "Do you really believe that, Harry?"

"I know it."

"All right." Seamus' smile had returned. Beside him, Luna was also smiling.

"Why don't you come in, Harry? You can have a cup of tea," Luna urged as she ushered Harry inside the cottage. "By the way, I thank you for your words. My cousin's been behaving oddly ever since the Death Eaters rode into Gryffindor. A bit like an animal caught in a trap, he's been."

Harry knew how Seamus felt. He was silent when they entered the modestly furnished cottage, and, desperate for a change of subject, he asked, "How are things in Ravenclaw?"

Luna lived in Ravenclaw, a land on the south of Gryffindor. Unfortunately for her, Ravenclaw was caught in the battles as it was to be found between the two warring nations of Hogwarts and Slytherin. Her father and Seamus' had joined the fighting, and she was told to come to Gryffindor for it was far from the battlegrounds. She'd been living with Seamus ever since.

"Very serious, I imagine. There's still no news from the front line, though from what I've heard, Dumbledore's troops were lying low."

Harry imagined they were. Losing his parents, two of Albus' most gifted disciples, had been an enormous loss on their offense and defense.

"As Seamus says, we saw Malfoy riding the land," she said as Harry took a seat next to the fire. "What does he mean to do with us here at Gryffindor?"

Harry hesitated. "He's leaving us and continuing on to Hangleton."

"Then we'll be rid of him?"

"In a manner of speaking." Harry accepted a cup of honey-sweetened tea and tried to think of some way to explain the bargain he'd made with Malfoy.

"Well, thank Merlin! If he's going to Hangleton, the mountains may fall on him and finish him off!"

Harry chuckled, about to agree, when above the sounds of forge and hammer, he heard hoofbeats. "Listen." he quietly said.

Luna's eyes widened. "Is it Malfoy?"

Harry wondered if Nott and Rosier reported his absence to their leader, and Malfoy had come after him. But when he put down his tea and went to the window to investigate, Harry's blood went cold. A crowd of hooded men was riding towards the cottage, and one of them carried a black banner with the insignia of a serpent and a skull on its center.

The Dark Mark.

"Oh, Merlin," Luna gaped behind him. "More Death Eaters!"

Unbidden, Harry remembered the terrible tales he'd heard about Death Eaters; tales of murder, torture and rape done routinely in Voldemort's name. He also heard that a banner with the Dark Mark was always left after they'd killed or pillaged a village. He should know; he was the one who found his parents' bodies after all.

"What will we do, Harry?"

In light of Luna's dread, Harry's own fear turned to anger. Bugger them if they thought he'd let more Death Eaters infest his land. He walked quickly to the door, flung it open, and went outside with Luna behind him just as the Death Eaters halted near the smithy.

"You, blacksmith," their leader drawled, "we need information."

Though Seamus continued to work as if he hadn't heard the Death Eater, Harry saw his friend tense.

The Death Eater got off his horse, frowning. "Speak when your betters speak to you, boy."

"What do you want here?" Harry flung his question heatedly. Surprised, the Death Eaters looked at him, and one of them snickered. "Looks like the people of Gryffindor have been diminished to children, Macnair."

In the jeering laughter that followed, Harry studied the Death Eater named Macnair. He was a tall, brawny man with dark hair and a black moustache. Insolent eyes studied Harry momentarily, and then shifted to leer at Luna. He could see that the Death Eater wasn't a wizard; he wasn't brandishing a wand.

"What do you want with us?" Harry repeated.

A grin. "We mean to hang someone. A murderer."

Seamus dropped his hammer, and Luna gave a gasp. Harry scowled. "There are no murderers in Gryffindor," he said evenly.

Macnair's smirk widened. "I don't doubt that you're all loyal subjects of Lord Voldemort, but we have it on good information that Sirius Black is hiding nearby."

Harry swore inwardly. They were hunting his father's best friend, the man who'd stood as godfather to him at his christening. Luckily, Sirius was far away with Dumbledore in Hogwarts. Wasn't he? "Your sources are wrong." Harry told Macnair coldly. "He's not here."

"Black set an ambush and killed four of Lord Voldemort's loyal Death Eaters; he should be rotting in the dungeons of Slytherin Castle." Macnair's smile became malicious. "You'll not deny that he was a close friend of James Potter's?"

"_Lord_ James had many friends," Harry proclaimed through gritted teeth, placing an emphasis on his father's title. "But you're wrong to seek Sirius Black here. His land is to the east of Gryffindor."

"Black is no fool. He wouldn't hide on his land or at Hogwarts," one of the other Death Eaters said. "He'd have turned to friends for help."

"Criminals help each other." Macnair licked his lip as if relishing the thought. "James Potter was another murderer who should've died by the headman's axe."

Harry's jaw tightened. "You're talking of better men than you'll ever be," he growled.

"Ah, I thought so. You side with Dumbledore." It was too late before he saw the trap Macnair had laid for him. "I ask again, where is Black?"

"I don't know."

Macnair made a gesture, and his men dismounted. As one of them started toward Harry, Seamus snatched up his hammer and blocked the way. "Damn you all, Death Eaters!"

"Seamus, don't!" Harry shouted, but two other Death Eaters had already seized his friend. Seamus squirmed away, tripped one of them, and hit the other in the face, but a third grabbed at him from behind and clubbed him with the hilt of his sword. Luna, running to help, was hauled back by yet another Death Eater.

With difficulty, Harry held himself still. He knew that Macnair expected—wanted—him to try and help Seamus, too. Striving for calm, he said, "Leave Seamus alone. He's done nothing to you."

Macnair snorted. "You call an attack on Death Eaters nothing?" He turned to Seamus, commanding, "Tell us where Black is, boy, and we'll let you go."

Seamus spat. The glob of spittle landed on Macnair's boot, but the Death Eater didn't lose his smile. Almost pleasantly, he ordered, "Hang him."

Luna screamed and fought to break away form the man who restrained her. Desperately, Harry tried to think of a way to stop them without using his magic; he didn't want to be captured and become another wizard for Voldemort to drain.

"That oak looks strong enough. Bring the rope and a horse."

"Wait! I'll—I'll do anything if you let them go," blurted Harry.

"Tell us where Black is."

"I don't know where he is!"

"And if he did know, he wouldn't tell y—!"

A blow to the mouth silenced the blacksmith, but Harry, seeing his opportunity, lunged at Macnair and grabbed his sword.

"Let him go or I'll kill you." Harry pointed the tip of the sword on Macnair's neck, but the man only gave a harsh laugh at his words.

"Boy, you're but a pretty face. You _can't_ kill!"

Harry shook at the Death Eater's words, willing himself to end the other man's life. But he found that he couldn't, and in that brief hesitation, Macnair was on him in an instant, hitting Harry in the face once, twice, and then again. He dropped the sword as Macnair flung him to the ground.

"Stop it! Don't hurt Harry!" wailed Luna as Macnair poised to give him a kick.

"Harry, eh? Well, never say that I don't oblige women. I'll have you later," Macnair drawled. "First things first, though. Hang the other boy."

A grinning Death Eater led up a horse, and two of them lifted the struggling Seamus onto the creature. Another looped a noose around his neck.

Luna began sobbing, and Harry stood up and wiped his bleeding mouth with an arm. "You're far from Slytherin, Macnair. If you kill him, the people of Gryffindor will retaliate. Behind every rock, every tree, there'll be someone with a crossbow pointed at your heart."

The Death Eaters looked uncertain, and Macnair narrowed his eyes. "Silence the bastard. No, on second thought, I'll give you something to scream about."

Macnair advanced toward Harry with a wicked grin on his face, and Harry had no doubt what was on the Death Eater's mind. Damn. _Damn_. This was it; he didn't care if they discovered that he was a wizard—

But before Macnair could touch Harry, a powerful force hit the large man, flinging him backwards to the ground. Macnair's pain-filled howl cut through the screaming and the coarse male laughter, and Luna went silent.

"Let them go," a new voice commanded.

Harry slowly released the breath he unconsciously held. He didn't know why, but when he heard Malfoy's deep voice and saw him on his beautiful grey horse a few yards away, Harry felt relieved.

"I said, let them go."

Macnair exploded. "Malfoy! By God, I'll beat the man who listens to him—"

"And I'll curse any who disobey me." Malfoy's ice-grey eyes remained locked on Macnair. "Why, Walden, I didn't know you missed me so much that you'd risk trespassing on my land." He was smirking, but his eyes were cold as ice, and Harry could feel the turbulent magic surrounding him again.

Macnair stared at Malfoy. "_Your_ land?"

Malfoy urged his stallion forward. "Gryffindor was given to me by Lord Voldemort himself, didn't you know?"

A ripple seemed to go through the Death Eaters. The man holding Luna let out a scared groan. "Mordred, it had to be Draco Malfoy's land!" He quickly let go of Luna, who started to run toward her cousin, then stopped to look fearfully at Macnair.

"Unloose the boy," Malfoy ordered.

Harry glanced at Macnair, and he saw that the man's face was almost purple, but he made no protest as his men hastened to obey Malfoy. "Gently," Malfoy added, "unless you wanted to lose your balls."

As Seamus slipped down from the horse, Draco rode over to Harry's side. "Are you all right?"

His eyes were still fixed on McNair, but Draco knew without looking at his betrothed that Harry was hurt. How hurt, he didn't know, but when he heard the hoarse voice that answered him, he glanced at Harry, and wished he hadn't.

The left side of Harry's face was turning purple, and his left eye was swollen shut. He had a cut on his lip, and blood trickled down his chin. But the thing that angered Draco the most was Harry's missing spirit; the radiant courage that constantly annoyed and challenged Draco was almost gone.

It took every ounce of Draco's self-restraint not to curse Macnair, but to do so would endanger everything that he'd worked for. "Explain, Macnair. Why are you on my land, abusing my people?"

Recoiling from the snarl, Macnair attempted bluster. "You have no right to interfere. These rebellious peasants are enemies who refused to answer my questions. The blacksmith attacked me and my men. And that boy almost killed me!"

"Did you expect him to just stand there and watch you kill his friend?"

Harry felt sickened. Blindly, he reached out for support and found a gloved hand gripping his.

"Harry, have they hurt you?" Malfoy was looking at him, and Harry almost snorted because, wasn't it obvious? But he saw the controlled rage in Malfoy's grey eyes, and the urgency on Malfoy's voice surprised him. It was tempting to trust him, to let him take care of things, but Malfoy was also the enemy.

Harry had to remember that.

Shaking his head, Harry pulled away from the warmth of Malfoy's grip.

Draco frowned. Mordred, Harry could be such a prat sometimes. He turned to Macnair again. "Fortunately for you, my betrothed is such an _honorable_ Gryffindor."

"_What!_" Seamus cried unbelievingly, and Luna looked at Harry with shock. "Married to a Death Eater!"

As if Seamus hadn't spoken, Draco went on, "I'll say this once. Gryffindor is mine, as is all it holds. Now get off my land."

Macnair licked his lips. "Lord Voldemort's orders—"

"Perhaps I haven't made myself clear," Draco cut in, setting Macnair's cloak on fire with a flick of his wand. As Macnair yelped and threw down his flaming cloak, Draco drew his rapier. "The next warning you'll get is six inches of steel in your gut."

"You haven't heard the end of this, Malfoy." Quivering with rage, Macnair mounted his horse. "Lord Voldemort will hear of this!"

Signaling his men, the Death Eaters turned around and rode away.

Draco turned to Harry. "Where is your horse?"

"Firebolt threw a shoe. Seamus was attending to that when they came."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Why did you have to provoke them?"

Harry gritted his teeth. "The hell I provoked _them_!"

Beside Harry, Seamus snarled, "They didn't need any provoking. All Death Eaters are pigs."

"Oh, Merlin, shut your mouth, Seamus!" Luna turned to Draco. "He didn't mean it, sir."

Draco rolled his eyes. He highly doubted that Finnigan didn't mean his words. He raised a haughty brow at Seamus, and snapped, "Blacksmith, don't you have work to finish?" Sullen and hostile, the young blacksmith returned to his work, but not after sending a glare toward Draco. He ignored Seamus and dismounted, walking to Harry.

"I'll heal you on the way to the castle," he murmured, lifting his hand to gently touch the purple bruise on Harry's face.

Harry flinched. "I don't need your help. I can heal myself," he quietly returned.

Draco gave a snort. "Fine, do what you wish." He walked over to the smithy to inspect Seamus' work.

Luna's eyes followed Malfoy as she hurriedly went to Harry, and whispered, "Harry... about the marriage..."

"It has to be done." Harry's head ached, and he wiped the blood from his mouth again. It was an effort to form coherent words as his head was spinning. "He's the master now. He can do anything to us. Hell, even those Death Eaters were afraid of him."

"But Harry..." Luna sighed.

"You shouldn't fight them; it would only make things worse." Harry broke off as Malfoy led Firebolt up to him.

Draco studied Harry, and when he saw the other boy's pale face, he frowned. "You're in no shape to ride. Just how bad did Macnair hit you?"

"Bad," Harry unthinkingly answered, "but I'll live." He pulled his wand from his back, and started to heal himself. A white light enveloped his body.

"You'll ride with me." Draco's voice brooked no argument. "Despite healing yourself, you'll still feel lightheaded." Harry didn't have the energy to protest as his headache had worsened after using his magic. He didn't even argue when Draco—_Malfoy!_—put him on Firebolt and mounted behind him after tying the reins of his grey horse on a nearby tree.

Draco put an arm around Harry and urged the stallion forward, prompting the Gryffindor to lean on him. Harry bowed his head as he leaned back; he couldn't bring himself to look Luna and Seamus in the eye.

"You have no business riding alone," Draco said after a moment of silence.

Harry didn't answer. Shoulders hunched and head down, he remained unmoving. Draco felt a momentary jolt of worry.

"You brought it on yourself," Draco continued. "It's no thanks to you that you and your friends weren't harmed."

"Sure," Harry retorted, starting to feel stirrings of anger. "And I supposed the attack is also my fault?"

"If you kept your sentiments to yourself," Draco goaded further, "you'd have escaped a beating."

Snapping, Harry tried to twist away from Draco's hard grip around his waist. "Fuck you, I'll ride by myself."

_Much better_, Draco thought, relieved. "Luckily for you, Theodore told me that you'd gone riding. From now on, you'll stay in the castle unless properly escorted."

Harry gaped at him. "I'm not some girl who needs protection! You can't control what I do!"

"No?"

His smile provoked Harry even more. "No!"

Firebolt's sudden movement threw Harry back against Draco's chest, and he became aware of Draco's warm breath on his nape and the male scent that filled his lungs. Harry felt enfolded and trapped at the same time.

As the Gryffindor struggled to sit straight and away from him, Draco's arm only tightened. "It's time you woke to certain realities, Harry. War has overshadowed the world. Voldemort is steadily taking over more lands as we speak and it's only a matter of time before he drained enough magic to defeat Dumbledore. He wants Hogwarts badly—he sees it as the ultimate prize to be won."

Harry turned his head and scowled. "And I told you, Albus Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world. He won't be beaten by a weak wizard like Voldemort." Harry winced as his movements caused his head to throb. Sighing, he relented and leaned back against Draco once more. "You're also powerful, Malfoy. Why do you follow Voldemort?"

Surprised by the compliment, Draco placed a kiss on Harry's nape that made the other boy shiver. "Why, thank you, Harry. That's a nice thing coming from another powerful wizard like you. As for my reason..." Draco's eyes hardened. "I need something from him."

Draco buried his face in Harry's unruly hair and raised a finger, trailing along Harry's cut lip back and forth. "Macnair really got you, hm?"

Harry accepted the changed of subject willingly, already forgetting about it as another kiss was placed just below his ear. "Yes," he gasped, opening his mouth to dart his tongue against the fingertip.

_God, what is the matter with me?_

"Then I promise you one thing, Harry." Draco was murmuring as he started to rain kisses on Harry's jaw line to his opened lips. "I'll have my revenge for what Walden Macnair has done to you."

* * *

On top of a hill half a mile away, Walden Macnair put down his Omniocular as Malfoy and the boy rode away. A smile of triumph was fixed on his face.

It seemed Malfoy had forgotten to tell the Dark Lord that he was marrying a wizard; and not only a wizard, but Lily and James Potter's only son.

He was sure his Lord will be pleased to know of Harry Potter. Very pleased.

Macnair could almost feel Lord Voldemort's approval.

_To be continued..._

This chapter is subtitled "And the plot thickens" and "The chapter of exclamation points". Hee hee.

Thank you to the reviewers!


	5. Caught in the Undertow

**Title: **Prerogative of Power

**Author: **Napolde

**Pairing: **H/D

**Rating:** R

**Warning(s):** AU. Slash. Eventual Mpreg.

**Disclaimer: **Copyright violation isn't my aim; this is written for the sole purpose of entertainment.

**Summary: **In a war-torn world of commoners, soldiers, wizards and nobles, Lord Voldemort has the upper hand, and as a reward, he gives Draco Malfoy the land of Gryffindor. Enter Harry Potter, the present master of Gryffindor.

**A/N:** The usual thanks go to my two superb beta readers, **Rachecho** and **Luciology, **who helped me through my crisis and suggested a lot of wonderful things. And to all who reviewed and gave me encouragement, thank you.

This story includes Slash and Mpreg, though the latter isn't graphic.

**PREROGATIVE OF POWER **

**Chapter Five:** _Caught in the Undertow _

Sing me no songs of daylight  
For the sun is the enemy of lovers,  
Sing instead of shadows and darkness  
And memories of midnight

—Sappho

Riding over the hill and past the mist-covered forest, they arrived at Gryffindor castle with Harry still leaning against Draco's chest. However, Harry stiffened when he saw the people of Gryffindor crowding the entrance. Most of them glared in silence, but one woman shouted, "God damn you, Death Eater!"

Malfoy didn't react, but as they approached the castle, Harry withdrew as far as possible from the arm holding him tightly.

Mad-Eye was waiting on the top step. His stern expression turned to one of anger when he saw Harry's bruised face. Pushing past Snape and Zabini, who were walking down the front stairs, Mad-Eye hurried toward him. "My lord—"

Harry dismounted despite the arm still wrapped around him, and Draco didn't let go until Harry was standing firmly on the ground. "He's all right," Draco told Moody.

Harry nodded to Mad-Eye, confirming what Malfoy had said, but he still put a hand on Mad-Eye's shoulder to steady himself. He felt very weak, and his head throbbed continuously in wave after agonizing wave of pain. He was surprised he could even stand upright and start up the steps.

Mad-Eye followed him. "I was worried when I found you gone." He scowled. "I thought you ran away."

Harry gave a noncommittal grunt. In some way, he did run away earlier. It had been too much for him, he who'd never thought about responsibilities before. But he knew he could never escape from his duties to his land.

"What happened?" Mad-Eye asked as he glanced at Draco. "Did Malfoy hurt you?"

Harry shook his head, and sucked his breath as it pounded again. _Fuck_. "No, he saved me from a group of Death Eaters."

Mad-Eye looked at him incredulously. "He did? From other Death Eaters?"

Behind them, Draco was talking to Zabini. "Tell the others to get ready. I found Walden Macnair nosing around."

"Macnair, is it?"

As weary as Harry was, he heard the disgust in Blaise's voice. He turned to look at Zabini, but he was already hurrying off to do his friend's command. Malfoy was in deep discussion with Severus Snape, and Harry noticed that the Potion Master's face was bleaker than usual. He was sure he'd heard Voldemort's name mentioned more than once, together with his own name.

"What Death Eaters?" Moody persisted.

He got the story out of Harry as they went toward the castle. Halfway through his account they were joined by Hermione, who had been waiting in the hall. She went white when she saw the bruises that lingered on his face. "Harry, look at your face! If _he_ hadn't been there—"

She broke off as the Montague brothers came running down the main stairs in answer to their leader's summon. The younger, Stephen Montague, bowed to them with an impish grin on his face. His brother was busy settling a deadly-looking knife into his belt.

Mad-Eye said sourly, "I never thought to find anything good to say about Malfoy, but I thank Merlin he was there for you."

"He was just defending his property," Harry pointed out.

Moody scowled. "You'd no business out riding on your own."

Harry swallowed the urge to laugh. If only Mad-Eye knew that he'd just echoed what Malfoy told Harry earlier.

"You better rest, my lord," Moody was saying, "and I'll have the cook prepare something for you to eat later."

When he ambled off to the kitchen, Harry and Hermione went upstairs to his bedchamber.

"I should've guessed you'd gone riding. You always do when you're upset." Hermione's voice hardened with resolve. "Harry, I can't let you sacrifice yourself like this. I'll marry Malfoy."

Harry managed to smile. _Too late, Hermione. I'm already in over my head._ Harry could still feel the soft kisses on his neck, and he gritted his teeth at the memory. "We mustn't let him hear us. He'll think we're fighting over him."

"But Harry..."

"It's all right." Harry hugged his cousin and quickly turned away, thinking that Hermione mustn't know how strongly Harry was tempted to shift his burden. "I know what I'm doing."

Hermione, despite her intelligence and strong will, would never survive being married to Malfoy. He remembered the barely leashed magic that shrouded Draco and Harry knew that his power extended to his mind and spirit. It gave him a driving, vital force that could lash or burn.

Draco Malfoy wasn't just dangerous—he could be deadly. Harry licked his cut lip, recalling the controlled fury with which he'd faced Macnair. No, Hermione couldn't marry Malfoy.

"I'm tired," he told his cousin. "I'm going to do as Mad-Eye says, for once, and rest. If Aunt Petunia comes looking for me, explain for me, Hermione."

Miraculously, Harry slept. For two hours, a deep, heavy sleep kept him from the harshness of reality and even from dreams. When he woke, the sun was high in the sky and he felt better. His head ache was gone and upon glancing at a mirror facing his bed, he saw that his bruises had faded. Harry realized that he was hungry, too. He hadn't eaten anything before riding out at dawn, and now his stomach growled in protest. Getting up, he put on his black boots and gathered the cloak he'd discarded earlier. He opened the door to his room and went downstairs.

Hermione's voice came from their aunt's chamber, but otherwise, the castle was quiet and he met no one in the stairs. There was no one in the kitchen either, but a pot of stew simmered enticingly on a hook over the fire. Harry was spooning some of it into a bowl when he heard a step behind him and saw Snape standing in the doorway.

"You're awake. Good," he commented.

"Obviously," Harry muttered. He took his bowl of stew to the kitchen table and sat down. Snape seated himself across him and watched him eat. Undaunted, Harry kept silent under the man's unnerving gaze.

"Don't you have something to do other than to ogle at me?" Harry demanded, finally snapping.

Snape raised a brow, and Harry was oddly reminded of Malfoy. "I assure you, Potter, I'm not ogling you."

"Then what do you want? Why do you keep looking at me? Don't you have potions to brew or villages to burn?"

Snape's eyes glinted in disgust. "Draco has gone off with the others to make sure Macnair isn't on the land. He told me to keep an eye on you." Snape sounded revolted by the idea, and Harry couldn't help but agree. He looked at Snape curiously, though, and as if he read Harry's mind, Snape grunted.

"Walden Macnair is one of the most influential Death Eaters around; it was foolish of you to antagonize him."

Harry gripped his spoon tightly, but the truth of what Snape had said kept back the protest he wanted to say. No matter what the reason was, Malfoy had saved Harry today. If he'd come a few minutes later...

Expelling a breath, he pushed the bowl away and looked at Snape thoughtfully. He knew it would be a challenge to make the austere man talk, but Harry had to try. "Tell me more about Macnair," he said, and Snape pierced him with such an intense, calculating look that it made him want to recoil in alarm, but Harry stood his ground.

"What is there to tell? He is well-favored by the Dark Lord, and he's also a butcher."

"And Malfoy isn't?"

Black eyes narrowed keenly for a moment. "I've known Draco Malfoy since he was a child. He grew up under my tutelage, and he is my most gifted student. I was there when he first cast the Cruciatus curse on another person, and I was his second when he first fought in a duel." _And won it_, Harry could almost hear Snape add smugly. "I was also there when he first killed someone. But believe it or not, Potter, Draco doesn't enjoy killing others, unlike Macnair." Snape paused. "Not unless he's provoked."

The last statement sent a frisson of unease throughout Harry. He wasn't surprised to learn that Malfoy had dabbled with the Unforgivables and had fought duels, but did Snape expect Harry to believe him? Believe that Malfoy didn't enjoy killing? "That's rubbish, Snape. Malfoy threatened to kill me in the forest."

"Don't mistake me, Potter." Snape smirked. "Draco could've killed you if he'd wanted to. I told him not to, remember?"

Harry glared at the sallow-faced man. "Besides, Malfoy's a Death Eater; he must've taken pleasure in burning houses and raiding the lands."

Snape looked at him thoughtfully. "He did join once, actually. A Death Eater group rode into a village somewhere in Ravenclaw and burned the first house they came to. A woman ran out of it, and two men caught hold of her. They got her on her back and—"

"I don't want to hear any more of this," Harry interrupted through gritted teeth.

As if he hadn't heard Harry, Snape continued coolly, "Draco rode up then and ordered them to let her go. They laughed at him so he had to break one man's jaw and curse another. The others ran away in fear of what Draco might turn them into. Later, he passed the word around that anyone caught raping or mistreating the conquered people would answer to him."

Harry was gripping the edge of the table hard when Snape ended his tale. "Liar. He can't be a Death Eater if he is kind and merciful."

Snape shot him another disgusted look. "You are clearly not listening to me, Potter. Kind? Merciful? Men wet their breeches when they see him coming. What I'm saying is that Draco won't tolerate someone who hurts women and prisoners. He is a fair leader."

Harry wanted to doubt Snape's words—it made sense to distrust Snape—but Harry didn't think Malfoy's mentor was lying. Harry frowned over this facet of Draco Malfoy's character. It didn't fit the picture he'd built of the pale-haired Death Eater. Not at all. "How about the rest of you? Aren't you Death Eaters as well?"

"Death Eaters? Death Eaters serve Voldemort, but the nine of us follow Draco. That differs us from them."

"But Malfoy serves Voldemort, and that makes all of you his servants. The same as Death Eaters."

Snape waved a hand. "You may think what you want, Potter. I'm only here to look after you, not change your mind about us."

Harry wanted to shout that he didn't want to change his mind about them, but he stood up instead. "Then you won't mind if I go upstairs?" Without waiting for an answer, Harry went out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs. As he passed his aunt's bedchamber, Aunt Petunia called out to him. "Where have you been? Sleeping, Hermione tells me, while we've been busy."

Harry glanced at the pile of linen heaped on Petunia's bed. More lay in the basket on the floor, and Harry recognized sheets and tablecloths as well as robes. Hermione, sitting by the window and embroidering silver threads on a white robe, avoided meeting Harry's eyes.

"I should think," grumbled their aunt, "that you would pay attention to your ceremonial robe."

"There's no need to make a ceremonial robe for me, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, crossing his arms on his chest.

"What?"

"I'll wear my mourning clothes."

"Harry!" Petunia cried, and Hermione shook her head with a rueful smile on her lips.

"Harry, wearing black is an insult! The man owns Gryffindor and Hangleton. If you anger him—" Petunia broke off as a clatter of hoofbeats sounded in the courtyard below. Harry went to the window.

Malfoy had returned, and the people of Gryffindor trailed behind him. A bitter knot formed in Harry's throat as he watched them come. Over a hundred women, old people and children were all that remained of the brave and loyal Gryffindors. The soldiers and men had ridden away to fight with Dumbledore.

"What's he going to do now?" Hermione wondered fearfully.

Harry remembered the hate-filled glares the people had given their new master. Had Malfoy decided to take reprisals on them? Whatever his decision, Harry was powerless against him. All he could do was go downstairs and share his people's fate.

Moody met him in the hall as he ran down the stairs. "It seems the man has called a meeting of the people," he informed Harry grimly.

"It may be more than that." His heart hammered as he pushed open the door and stood on the top step of the castle. In the courtyard below, Draco was still mounted, and he looked every inch the triumphant conqueror atop his beautiful grey steed and wearing a heavy black cloak, looking down arrogantly at the cluster of mute people.

His men had dismounted, and Harry noticed that Snape was making his way toward Draco. As Harry dashed down the stairs, Mad-Eye grabbed his arm. "Best stay out of it, my lord."

Shaking off his hand, Harry darted down the steps and across the cobbled courtyard. Voldemort might have given Gryffindor to Malfoy, but they were still his people. He stopped between Luna and Seamus, and with them faced their Death Eater master.

Draco watched Harry's approach with annoyance. He thought he was having progress with his betrothed earlier on their journey back to the castle. When he kissed Harry, the Gryffindor didn't offer any resistance; he had kissed Draco back with a surrender that thrilled Draco even now. They even managed to have a conversation without cursing one another, but he should've known that it wouldn't last long.

Why had he allowed himself to be talked into marrying Harry Potter instead of Hermione Granger?

"There's something you need to understand," Draco began. His grey eyes flickered over the people, and then came to rest on Harry. "I _own_ Gryffindor."

"But you don't own us," Seamus muttered.

There was a moment's stillness. Then, deliberately, Draco dismounted. He handed the reins to Crabbe and sauntered forward, and in spite of themselves, the Gryffindors gave ground.

"As the lawful heir to Gryffindor, I shall marry Lord Harry Potter."

A horrified gasp went up from the crowd. Disbelief and anger burst forth, followed by denials. Draco let the noise escalate, then he held up a hand for silence.

"We'll be married at the end of this week."

_What the hell?_ Was the first thought in Harry mind, and he gulped when he saw Malfoy holding out a hand to him. He remained unmoving, glaring with intense hate at Malfoy, but the smirk in Malfoy's mouth told Harry that he had little choice on the matter.

Harry knew his people were seething with rage. Defiance from him would be like setting a match to a powder keg, and if his people rebelled, Malfoy would order his men to retaliate.

Reluctantly, he stepped forward and put his hand in Malfoy's, and Harry was unnerved at how their hands entwined and tangled familiarly.

"Lord James is dead," Draco told the people. "But Harry and I are wizards, and through a magical joining, the bloodline will go on." He paused to let that sink in. "These are dangerous times, and what's mine, I defend. You'll be safe, and as long as you do as I say, you'll prosper. When your soldiers and men come home from the battles, they'll find a place here with no questions asked as long as they leave their politics behind."

Despite his resentment, Harry had to admit Malfoy did well to offer reassurance and hope for better days without losing his grip on the people's fear.

"It was said you're leaving Gryffindor. How can you protect us from Death Eaters like Macnair if you're in Hangleton?" Someone from the crowd yelled.

"Macnair's not enough of a fool to bother you again. Besides, five of my men will remain here with you." At his nod, five of Malfoy's followers walked forward: Evan Rosier and Malcolm Baddock, the mercenaries Crabbe and Goyle, and Marcus Flint. "These men are fighters trained to defend, and they have the authority of my name. Few would be foolish enough to challenge that."

Harry could almost hear his people thinking about the things Malfoy had said. They'd expected a harsh, even brutal, treatment from the Death Eater, and instead had been offered protection and a promise of amnesty for their fighting men. And he was going to marry into the family so that the Potter line would continue. It wasn't good, but it could have been worse.

Unfortunately, not all Gryffindors were realists. As Draco dismissed the people, Seamus' dark eyes met Harry's. _How can you marry him?_ they demanded.

Harry snatched away the hand Draco still held and rubbed it hard against his breeches.

Not missing the insulting gesture, Draco sneered. "You haven't thanked me for saving your life, Potter."

"Don't flatter yourself!" Harry burst out. He turned his back on Draco and started up the stairs, only to find Malfoy falling into step beside him.

"There are things we must discuss."

Ignoring Moody, who was hovering in the hallway, Draco opened the study door and gestured inside. "My darling," he invited.

"Shut up," Harry muttered as he walked past Malfoy and went to the furthest corner of the room with his back to the wall, putting as much space as he could between them. The study was still the same; his father's books and maps were still there, but Malfoy's cloak had been tossed over a chair and numerous rolls of unfamiliar parchment crowded the desk.

"Blaise and I were charting our route to Hangleton," Draco was saying. "We will leave as soon as we're married."

They were going to leave Gryffindor at the end of the week. Harry still couldn't believe it.

"Blaise calculates that it will take several days to reach Castle Hangleton. What do you think?"

"I guess." In answer to Draco's quizzing look, he explained, "I've never been to Peter's land. Despite being joined with Gryffindor, it is far from here and the journey to Castle Hangleton is difficult. Father went there sometimes, but it was usually Peter who used to visit here often."

Draco nodded, stone-faced. "And about the ceremony, I'm inviting our neighbors."

Startled, Harry shook his head immediately. "Are you insane? Do you want another war here in Gryffindor? They won't come! They're too proud—"

"They will." Cool grey eyes glinted, and a corner of Malfoy's lip rose. "Fear governs all of us, even the proud and fine nobles of the realm." He proceeded to name the guests he'd invited from the neighboring lands: Diggory, Smith, Bones, Patil, Crouch, Weasley. "I heard the patriarch of the Weasley family stayed at home to oversee his land while his sons fought in the war. And Lord Bones marched with Dumbledore, but his Lady will come."

"Are you saying they're afraid of you?" Harry mocked.

"I can protect my neighbors or harm them. They know this. Of course, they won't admit it. Amelia Bones will say she's come only in memory of your father, and Arthur Weasley will whisper to you that you must be brave for Gryffindor's sake."

Harry seethed. "I'll be mourning Gryffindor. I plan to be married in black."

Grey eyes narrowed. "Change your plans, then."

"Sorry, Malfoy, I've made up my mind."

In an instant, Malfoy had crossed the room and leaned toward Harry, backing him against the wall. "If you come down wearing black," he promised, "I'll strip you naked in front of the guests." His voice was almost silky, but something in it was stunningly terrifying. "You'll look beautiful on our wedding day."

"Damn you, Malfoy, you don—" Harry caught his breath when Draco placed his hands on the wall on either side of Harry's head and leaned closer until every part of their bodies were pressed together completely. His mind swam in a haze, unaware of the cold stone wall behind him, oblivious to anything except Draco. Somehow, when Draco Malfoy was near him, all his thoughts, all his reasons, dissolved into thin air as overwhelming desire—_need_—took over.

"Harry..." Draco murmured as he placed fierce kisses up Harry's throat to his ear, making him writhe. "Harry." Nip. Bite. Suck. _OH!_ "I want you to promise me that you'll be a dutiful husband."

Draco's body against his was a hard and heavy weight, and he could feel its heat through his shirt and breeches, invasive, enveloping. Harry shuddered when teeth grazed the soft area just below his ear, letting out a strangled groan. "I'll give no such promise."

Draco grabbed Harry's hands and pinned them above his head, twining their hands together just as perfectly as they had in the courtyard. He rammed his hips against Harry's hard, and the other boy gasped aloud and jerked roughly against him. "Are you going back on your word? It was you who suggested the marriage." Draco stared at those conflicted green eyes not unlike a cornered deer's. "Perhaps you've lost your nerve."

In spite of himself, Draco hissed in pleasure when Harry's face twisted in utter loathing. The air between them crackled with magic and tension, and _God_, Harry looked magnificent when he was angry.

"I'll keep my bargain with you," Harry spat, his eyes flashing a dangerous green, "but you won't get submission from me. You'll never rule me or my thoughts, Malfoy."

"Then I'll start with your body instead."

Before Harry could register what Malfoy meant, Draco was crushing him against the wall and kissing him, and after a brief struggle, the fight drained out of Harry and he kissed Draco back, opening his mouth and _moaning_ at the feel of softhard lips against his. The kiss was fierce and frantic and full of undisguised hunger as tongues clashed and twisted, and soon saliva glistened their lips as Draco pushed Harry harder against the wall and Harry tried to push back just as hard, wanting, _needing_, to fuse their bodies even closer, but it _still wasn't enough_. Harry whined and pulled at his trapped arms, demanding Draco to let him go because, _God_, Harry needed to touch him badly.

"Let me touch you. Please, Dra—" It ended in a moan when hands, _Draco's hands_, were suddenly unfastening his cloak and unbuttoning his shirt and roaming over his chest and neck and shoulders.

Draco opened his mouth further, their teeth clacking painfully but he didn't care, not when he could drink the small, wild sounds coming from Harry. Not when his tongue could slide even further inside Harry's mouth.

Harry made a keening sound and wrapped his arms around Draco, rocking his groin forward to collide with the hardness against him. He felt his mouth quirk triumphantly at the rugged noise that escaped from Draco's mouth, but Draco retaliated by sliding his hand into Harry's hair and wrenching his head back, biting at his lower lip as his other hand slid down Harry's chest to his stomach, and then brushed over his throbbing erection through the soft material of his breeches.

Harry's head fell back as he bucked and shuddered against the hand stroking him, his mouth opening with a low cry when he felt Draco's hand slip into his breeches to grasp his cock. "You like that?" Draco growled as he buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck and proceeded to suck at it, all the while his hand continued to caress and torment Harry's hardened cock.

Squeeze. Tug. Jerk. _Fuck_. "Ah, I see that you do. How much?"

_Too much._ Eyes sliding shut, Harry bit his lip and tasted blood, and then he let out another soundless cry when teeth closed on his nipple, Draco's tongue lapping back and forth once, twice, too many times, driving him mad with desire.

"I'll have your promise, Harry," Draco reminded him, the pace of his hand becoming faster still. "You will behave."

"Fuck you..." Harry panted, lips parting slightly as his breath hitched.

"Promise me." He tightened his hold on Harry and gave a particularly harsh jerk, causing Harry to cry out as pleasure built, peaked and turned the world white-hot, and then Harry was quivering into Draco's arms, coming in Draco's hand.

Harry kept his eyes closed, the realization of what he had done sweeping through him like a dark flood, but Merlin knew he tried; he just couldn't resist Draco Malfoy. And when Draco placed gentle, cajoling kisses up Harry's chest to his mouth, he could do nothing but slump toward Draco in an admission of defeat.

"Promise me..."

The quiet command was followed by insistent, sticky fingers pushing against his mouth, and oh, how Harry wanted to keep fighting him, but Draco had stripped down his defenses. He'd torn away Harry's pride, and he felt naked, alone and entirely without hope.

From very far away, he heard his own voice reply, "I'll do as you say," even as a finger slid inside his opened mouth and Harry tasted his own capitulation on his tongue.

_To be continued...

* * *

_

Subtitled as the Chapter that Gave Me Hell. Damn, smut will be the death of me.

Next chapter, the wedding (and the wedding night). I might rate it NC-17, so it'll be revised to fit this site's requirement.

**End Notes ** :

Someone said that they didn't understand Draco's action in the last sentence, so I edited it. Thanks a lot to the ones who've reviewed so far: **Dark Angel's Blue Fire**, **Danaan** and **Ura-hd**.

And to **Gatogirl1**: Your review made me happy. I'm also sad by the number of reviews I got(Indeed, let's start a petition:p) and well, Harry got beaten pretty easily because Draco is so irresistible, haha. But don't worry; he'll get his day yet. And ooh, the wedding! It's going to be a battleground. Thanks again!

Reviews are LOVE.


End file.
